Nothing But the Truth
by who smiles
Summary: After a run in with some bad magic, Tony Stark is rendered unable to lie. Hilarity ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**Nothing But the Truth**

**Summary: After a run in with some bad magic, Tony Stark is rendered unable to lie. Hilarity ensues.**

**notes:** hello avengers archive! it's nice to finally be here**  
notes the second: **Originally a prompt on the Avengerskinkmeme. The round was closed, so I can't link to there, but it you're the requesting anon then here you go!**  
notes the third: **not sure how long this'll run, or how frequently I'll update. It's fun nonetheless; after reading so many Tony Snark fics I just had to try it myself

* * *

It all started on a Monday.

Tony Stark was down in his lab, AC/DC blaring in one ear and Jarvis giving him helpful instructions in the other, when the AI's voice was taken over by a severely less pleasant one. Tony jumped and nearly skewered the dethatched metal arm with his screwdriver.

"_What the_-" he started, eyes wide with a sudden alertness. "_Fury?" _There was a grunt of confirmation and Tony cast the room an annoyed look.

"No warning, Jarvis?"

_Sorry sir. Director Fury's call came straight through without alerting me._

"Stark," Fury said before Tony could say anything in reply, "do me a favor and focus for one second. There's something going on downtown."

"That's pretty vague, Fury."

There was a scoff, and angry grumble, and then, "On account of we don't know what it is, you should be lucky I can even call it 'something.' Cap and Hawkeye are on their way and I need you there _yesterday_."

Tony sighed and sat back in his chair. Lazily, he spun around in it, casually waving for Jarvis to prepare his suit. "As amazing as I am, I haven't figured out time travel yet." Jarvis gave a polite, _sir, _and Tony made his way towards the metal armor. "But that doesn't mean I won't give it my best shot."

He hung up the call then, already up to his waist in the Iron Man suit. Once the face plate of the helmet covered his face, he took one steadying step and burst through the ceiling.

"Jarvis, remind me to make a window or something later."

_Noted, sir._

.

.

.

.

From his spot in the sky, Tony had a blatant view of what was happening below. There were panicked citizens running—nothing new—and a few police cars directing them to safety—big whoop—and a duo of brightly-clad heroes….

…standing there, looking hopelessly lost.

Tony quirked an eyebrow as he touched ground. "What'd I miss?"

Cap, face drawn in a tight frown, gave a hapless shrug. He looked a few seconds away from actually scratching his head. "Nothing," he answered finally. "It's sort of…"

"…weird," Clint finished for him. He looked bored—idly stringing his bow and glowering at everything in sight. "There's this….cloud thing drifting everywhere. It doesn't do much but anything it touches kinda melts."

Tony stared at him. "Melts?"

"And steams," Clint added. "Sometimes the cloud laughs."

"…_laughs?_"

Clint held up his hands. "Man, I don't know! I just want to shoot something!"

Tony glanced at Cap and could tell the patriotic hero shared Hawkeye's views on the matter.

"Cackles, more like," Cap clarified, still squinting at nothing. "And then it disappears and shows up somewhere else to strike again."

"So… there's a deranged cloud melting things at will?"

"…Yeah."

"And there's no obvious way to stop it?"

"Pretty much."

Tony scoffed. "Well _that's _a great bedtime story. But seriously, what's going on?"

Cap's confused expression became an irritated one. "We just told you."

"Yeah but everything you said sums up to utter bullshit," Tony said lightly. "And Jarvis isn't picking up any readings of a strange cloud. So, yeah, I'm calling the bullshit car—"

He didn't get the chance to finish; something was resting on the toe of his right foot. Tony looked and blinked.

A little girl was sitting on his foot, waving around a stick and mumbling to thin air. Upon closer inspection, Tony realized she was actually a full grown woman…only miniature. Her hair was done up in elaborate braids and her eyes were an unnerving shade of yellow- and she was _still _sitting on Tony's foot and didn't seem like getting up any time soon.

Tony looked up at Steve, pointing at the girl. "Are you seeing this?"

"Um. Yeah. I think."

Clint, however, looked elated. His bow was loaded and aimed at the girl's head before Tony could blink. "I think I found something to shoot at."

He released the arrow, and the strangest thing happened.

Tony saw her hand move and in the same instant, the arrow hovered in the air. A little cloud of gray consumed the weapon until it was reduced to a puddle on the ground and the woman looked up with a very exaggerated pout.

"That wasn't very nice," she chided, waving her stick at Clint. Tony had seen the Harry Potter movies enough times to know that she was treating the thing like a wand. "Not nice at all."

Clint didn't give her the grace of a verbal answer. Instead he shot another arrow, though this time it was consumed within an inch of her nose.

"You'd better stop," she said. "It's really rude to shoot arrows at peoples' faces."

"It's also rude to melt half a city," Steve said, looking weirded out by the whole situation.

"That was an accident." The woman stood, finally freeing Tony's foot. And stared them all down. "I was practicing my magic but I got carried away. I can fix it, if you want."

"Could you?" Steve asked hopefully while Tony deadpanned, "Practicing _what_."

"I could," she smiled. "And magic, dear Man of Iron. Ever heard of it?"

"Yes," Tony said. "In fairytales."

"Then that makes you the ugly witch at the end of the story."

Tony blinked again.

_Sir?_

"Ready the repulsors," Tony replied. He flicked his wrist and a blue stream of energy shot at the woman's face.

She aimed her stick- wand- _whatever _at him, and then Tony was inhaling a black fog, only it was _inside _the suit, and he was spluttering and coughing and cursing and the little woman gave him a sly smile and whispered, "You're going to _regret_ _that_."

If she was referring to blasting her, Tony wanted to tell her that he already did, but the black fog was making it hard to breathe. He could only convulse as Steve and Clint charged the woman, only to run head-on into thin air. The destruction that had been around them moments ago was gone, and so was their supposed enemy.

"Well," Clint said, dropping his arms by his sides. "That was anticlimactic."

All Tony could see was the ground rushing up at him. He heard Cap laugh, then a worried "_Stark?" _and then nothing.

.

.

.

.

When he woke up, he was staring at Natasha.

Really, Natasha was staring at him. She blinked in surprise and immediately began to ask how he was feeling, if he hurt, and questions of that nature.

Tony sat up, pressing one hand to his forehead and the other outwards to steady his balance. "I'm fine," he said dismissively. "Where am I? What happened?"

"SHEILD headquarters. Clint and Cap were pretty panicked when they brought you here. They were going off about a little girl and a cloud and it wasn't making much sense."

"I don't remember any of that." Tony blinked hard and swung his legs off the cot he'd been laying on. "Where are they now?"

"Getting chewed out by the Director, probably. Do you need any help?"

"No, I've got it," Tony said, managing to rise to his feet without her assistance. He felt a little dizzy still, and his memory was oddly fuzzy. "Um."

Natasha gave him a worried look. "What?"

"I think," Tony said slowly, "I'm going to throw up."

Thankfully, Natasha had the good sense to step out of the way.

.

.

.

.

After a considerable amount of time bent over a toilet, Tony wiped his mouth and made his way to the meeting room, with only minor help from Natasha. He felt less queasy now, but his head still throbbed.

Cap stood when he saw Tony, crossing the room in two huge strides. "Are you okay?"

Tony was prepared to tell the man he was peachy, but the words coming out of his mouth were, "Not really. I threw up for like ten minutes and my legs are kinda shaky and my head hurts and I can't remember much."

Then he gave his mouth a look of surprise.

The others were too preoccupied in helping him sit to notice. Clint gave a small snort as he resettled in his seat. "Tell me you at least remember getting _owned _by the little girl."

Tony didn't know what he was talking about. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Y'know, the little girl that waved a stick at you and made you choke—_come on, _it was _gold!_"

"I don't remember a little girl, but I remember choking." His throat still felt sore. "Not much else."

"Do you remember your name? Place of birth?"

Tony didn't miss a beat; "Anthony Edward Stark, Long Island, New York."

There was silence. And of course Clint was the one to break it.

"Your middle name is Edward?"

Tony attempted to say no. "Yes, of course." And then he attempted to vanish into his seat when Clint gave him a look of pure amusement.

Hesitatingly, he spoke again. "Ask me a question."

"What?"

"Just do it, Cap. I think something's wrong."

"Alright…" Steve shrugged. He gave a wary glance at Natasha, then at Clint, and they shrugged right back. "What's your favorite sports team?"

"Boston Red Sox," said Tony, followed by a cringe and an outraged '_traitor!' _from Clint. His eyes grew wide and he waved his hand somewhat frantically. "Ask me something else."

"Why did you make the Iron Man suit?" Fury asked, giving Tony a somewhat dark look.

Tony was mortified as he found himself relaying ever detail of being held hostage in Afghanistan, including the means of torture and desperate thoughts until Fury told him to shut up.

Poor, poor Steve was staring at him like he wanted to hug him; Clint was a little wide-eyed and even Natasha seemed put off. Tony _never _brought up Afghanistan. **Ever**. After one awful occasion where Clint mentioned the file, Tony had given him a look so cold that Bruce eventually had to bring the topic of conversation elsewhere. And even then, Tony made a point of not talking to Clint for nearly a week after.

He felt his stomach sink. This could be potentially worse than he thought.

"Crap," he said eloquently. "Do me a favor and call Bruce. Tell him to meet me at the Mansion. I'm going to need you two," he gesture at Cap and Clint, "to come with me. I think I know what's going on here."

He was already standing –and regretting it—when Cap asked, "Want to fill us in?"

Rather than snap '_no_' like he wanted to, Tony bit down on his lip. "I think I've been put under a truth serum."


	2. Chapter 2

**notes**: You guys are the best! I wasn't expecting such positive feedback x) Thank you so much!  
**notes the second**: This story is writing itself. Please excuse lack of humor in this chapter. It'll be back in full soon.  
**notes the third:** Still not sure how many chapters this will run for, but I do know that updates will be on Sunday. Mark you calendars!

**also**: **MoonlightDemoness **wanted to know if there would be any whump in this story. The answer is yes, but it will be very slight.

**enjoy! ^^**

* * *

Tony felt more and more like a child at a checkup with each passing minute. Bruce had him sitting up on the table in his work shop, suit off, and threw a volley of questions at him, Cap, and Clint. He asked Tony a few more experimental questions ("Do you _actually _hate my purple shirt or do you say that to provoke me?") and nodded like the wise ol' Bruce he was.

"Well Doc," Tony said while Bruce wrote something down. "What's wrong with me?"

Bruce shushed him with a wave of his hand. "I'm going to need a blood sample," he muttered after a moment, more to himself than anyone else.

"Nope. My blood stays away from needles at all times."

"It wasn't a question," Bruce said apologetically. He neared Tony with the needle and the genius billionaire philanthropist _whimpered._

Clint chuckled, "_Someone's_ afraid of needles."

Try as he might to deny it, Tony ended up chomping down on his lip to keep from giving an honest answer. Bloody knuckles were definitely worth not giving Clint any more fuel to this metaphorical honsety fire. With a petulant frown, he stuck his arm out and told Bruce to do his worst.

Five minutes and an Iron Man band-aid later, Bruce cleared his throat. He cast Tony a side-glance, and then set his attention on Cap.

"I've got good news and bad news," he said slowly, as if he were trying to avoid saying anything at all.

Steve—who had dozed off—rubbed his eyes and gave Bruce a serious look. "Good news first," he said, and Clint straightened up to show he was listening.

Bruce backed Tony now, which did anything at all for Tony's sense of security. "Good news is there's no trace of a truth serum." Even though his words were light, Bruce started polishing his glasses and _everyone _knew that was Bruce-speak for '_Bruce-is-feeling-uncomfortable-right-now'._

"Bad news?" asked Clint.

Bruce mumbled something unintelligible to Tony and Clint but Steve's eyes went wide and Tony cursed the supersoldier's superhearing.

"What?" He looked from Steve to Bruce. "What? C'mon, tell me, I can handle it."

Bruce vigorously polished his glasses. "I said," he reiterated, not meeting Tony's gaze, "it's a truth _spell, _which is notably stronger than a serum."

Clint, being Clint, gave a low whistle. "Sucks to suck, man."

Jarvis, who had remained silent up until that point, thoroughly praised Mr. Barton for his ever elegant diction.

.

.

.

.

"Someone call Thor."

Everyone jumped; Tony hadn't spoke in over five minutes, and they thought he'd been broken by Bruce's diagnosis. Tony's eyes were icy cold, matching his expression.

"I don't think Thor knows much about magic. That's more of Loki's area…"

"Well then, _Cap, _tell him to _learn _on the way here. He's a god, I'm sure he can handle it."

Steve winced at his harsh tone but _honestly_, Tony couldn't care less.

"While you're at it, call Pepper. Actually, never mind. I'll call Pepper. Jarvis?"

_Already on it, sir._

Without casting another glance at the other three men, Tony hopped off the table. With a careless wave over his shoulder, he said, "You're free to leave now, thanks for stopping by."

"Tony…"

"Seriously. Bye. Jarvis can show you how to work the door again if you need him to."

"Tony, you don't mean that." And something in Steve's voice was _knowing._

Of all the people in this world, it only made sense that Steve Rogers could render Tony speechless. Constantly. No one else made a sound until Tony answered.

"Of course I don't."

And then the whole situation was too _emotional _for Tony, because he was literally _useless _against his own tongue. There were no more walls, no more defenses—all of them were demolished by this stupid truth spell and Tony had _never_ felt more vulnerable in his _life_.

Thank God for Jarvis; his flawless AI interrupted the tense silence to give Tony word that Miss Potts was already upstairs waiting for him. Tony took the opportunity to flee.

.

.

.

.

Tony couldn't tell if Pepper wanted to hit him or kiss him. Her face was drawn tight but her eyes lit up when she saw him strolling up the stairs.

He gave her his brightest smile, but felt it turn into a grimace instead. "I'm going to go ahead and guess Jarvis filled you in?"

Pepper responded by hitting him with her purse.

Well that answered _that _question.

The redhead hit him again, for good measure, then cradled his face in her hands. "You," she said, choked up, "are such an _idiot._"

But she kissed him, at least, and Tony knew this was her way of saying she cared. About him. Which added to the _emotional freight train _factor but not so much to the _fix it _initiative.

"I'm going to look for a cure," Tony said, because that was the only honest way to comfort her that this spell would let him get away with. "Don't worry, Pepper."

"How can I not worry? Every time I turn my back you, you do _something! _Just…_stop_ putting yourself in harm's way like this Tony." She pressed her face into his shoulder and just _hugged him _and Tony hadn't been hugged like that _ever. _

He decided to stay there for a while. Pepper didn't object.

.

.

.

.

Tony figured Jarvis had warned the three men he left in his workshop that going upstairs put their lives in danger, because Bruce only appeared after Pepper was consoled. Clint and Steve trailed behind him, all three greeting Pepper warmly.

"Bruce," Tony said, his arm still securely around Pepper's waist. "You, me, and an all night impromptu cure search. Up for it?"

"Will there be coffee?"

"There's _always _coffee."

Bruce smiled. "Then I don't see why not."

"_Excellent._" He gave Pepper a final squeeze and pried away from her. Tony picked his Stark Phone from his pocket, quickly tapping the screen. "Hey, Jarvis, can you tell me where Thor's at? And please don't answer unless you're going to say 'New Mexico.'"

_You are in luck, sir. Mr. Odinson is currently residing in New Mexico._

Tony pumped his fist—he wanted to celebrate with Jarvis, but as the AI was lacking limbs, he decided that Bruce would do instead. Sharing a grin with Pepper, he clapped Steve on the back. "This isn't as bad as it could be," he joked. He was willing to ignore the emotional moment from the workshop, and though Steve looked like he wanted to talk about it, he smiled and slammed his palm on Tony's back in return.

"Oh jeez," Tony mumbled, staggering forward and stretching out his back. "Yeah, I'm going to feel that in the morning."

"Sorry, sorry, still not used to the strength thing." Steve gave a sheepish smile. "You're right though. As far as we know, Thor is actually handy with magic and such."

Clint gagged, exaggeratedly. He pushed himself between Steve and Tony, giving them both repulsed looks. "Hate to break up the bromancing, but shouldn't we have a back up plan? Y'know, in case Big and Blond can't hold a wand to save his life?"

"Back up plans are overrated," Tony grumbled, as Steve nodded his head in agreement. They glared at each other, briefly, and Bruce was the one to regain their attention.

"Clint's right. Even if we contact Thor now, there's no saying when he come by here. And," he went on, shushing Tony with a wave of his hand, "we can research this thing till the sun don't shine, but I don't thing magic and science overlap that often. A back up plan is a good idea."

"You always side with him," Tony whined, shoulder slumped. "But if it's a back up plan you want, it's a back up plan you'll get. Any ideas?"

His inquiry was met with silence. Tony heaved a melodramatic sigh. "Okay, I'll think of one then." Appropriately, he put on his best thinking face and chucked a nearby screwdriver at Clint when the archer started to laugh. "Shut up I'm thinking."

"You look constipated."

"It's my thinking face; don't be jealous because you don't have one." He silenced any and all of Clint's arguments with another screwdriver aimed for his head. With the room in silence, it didn't take long for Tony to hatch a plan.

"Got it," he said suddenly, startling Bruce and Steve, "I've got it." Pepper gave him a quizzical look that he met with small shrug. "But before I say anything, you are all going to swear to keep your mouths shut. I swear, the first person to laugh or try to be witty will get shoved out the window." He glared at them each in turn, which wasn't very menacing, but knowing that he had made the threat why being compelled to the truth was.

"I swear."

"Yep, definitely swearing."

"I swear too, so, uh, don't send me plummeting to my death please."

Pepper snorted. Tony glared at her too and she stuck her tongue out at him. "I'm not swearing to anything because you won't push me out a window."

Tony stared at her long and hard.

"I resent that."

"But you don't deny it."

"Correction, I _can't_ deny it. But that's beside the point." Tony bit his lip, sighed through his teeth. "Jeez this'll be rich," he mumbled under his breath. One hand entangled in his hair, Tony put on his game face.

"I still don't remember anything about the incident other then choking, but from what I gather from Steve and Clint, the little woman-thing from earlier today was decidedly not human. I asked Jarvis to match their descriptions of her to any known villain and, surprisingly, he found a match." As he spoke, the nearest wall collapsed within itself to allow room for a computer screen to take its place. Steve was the only one that looked terribly surprised. "During the Reindeer Gone Wild incident last summer our little problem was off causing some damage herself."

The screen pulled up a picture of the woman from earlier, though her hair was hanging loose around her shoulders and her skin was green. She was smiling, two little fangs poking over her bottom of lip, and the delight in her eyes was definitely a malicious one.

Everyone took a moment to shudder. (Pepper yelped and took the opportunity to bustle out of there because she loved Tony, really, but it was too early for this.)

Recovering, the genius plowed on, "She has stolen 'magical'—" he made air quotes—"qualities from over fourteen people, tricked nearly thirty into their deaths, and has attempted to become Public Enemy Numero Uno at least four times."

"What." That was Clint, no surprise. He looked the blankest of anyone.

"Shut up, I'm still speaking. Anyway, the plan is that if we find her, we can get her to reverse the spell she put on me." Tony's voice quieted, "If it's even reversible."

Bruce nodded, slowly. "That's…okay, yeah, that's a good plan. Just one issue-"

"How do we find her?" Tony finished. "I'm not sure. Obviously, she likes finding us rather than the other way around. I was hoping Thor could be something like a bloodhound for us—sniff her out of whatever magical cave she's hiding in."

"Wait," said Steve, whose mind was reeling, "how did you find out all of this so quickly?"

"I may or may not have mentioned something to Jarvis while we were still in my lab," Tony said mildly.

"That was seven minutes ago!"

"And your point?" When the supersoldier merely blinked at him, Tony rolled his eyes. "You have so much confidence in me."

"Actually, Tony, that's impressive. Even for you."

"Why, Brucie, I'm touched."

"Please never say 'Brucie' again." Clint looked like his mind has exploded several minutes ago. "Hold it; if Fairy Godmother has been trying to be our enemy for so long, how come we don't remember her pulling any shit before today?"

Tony pointed at the archer, wearing a slasher smile. "Now you're asking the right questions. Trouble is, there's no right answer. She could be wiping our memories or disguising herself or—"

_Sir, there's an incoming video chat from Mr. Odinson._

"Hold that thought," Tony said to Clint. "Jarvis, put Thor on the big screen."

The computer screen with the woman's face on it switched to an image of a confused Thor squinted at the camera. His face brightened when he saw the other Avenger come into view. "Friends! This Midgardian technology truly works wonders!"

"Yeah, we know, feel free to gush about it later," Tony said in a rush, "Right now we need you up here and ready for action."

The god's expression became a sheepish one. Tony couldn't have been the only one to notice, because Clint was whispering, "_Is he blushing? Why is he blushing_," to Cap and Bruce was frowning. Thor cleared his throat uncomfortably before speaking.

"I am…unable to deport at this time," Thor admitted, effectively shooting down Tony's only plan, and by association, only hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**notes**: it's 11:39! this counts as being uploaded on Sunday!

**enjoy^^**

* * *

"What do you mean by that?"

At any other time, Tony would gleefully egg Steve on and hope for a fight, but today he simply deflated. The supersoldier had his most serious face on as he stared down Thor. Tony was touched by his dedication.

Or rather, he would've been touched, if Thor hadn't just dropped a bomb on him.

Speechless, Tony fell back into the nearest chair and just _slumped_. He paid minimal attention to Thor's weak arguments.

"I…there are matters of…great importance that I must attend to…"

Clint frowned. "Yeah, there's one here, too. It's name is Tony and his lie button broke."

Before Thor could stammer up another counter, the camera swiveled from his face to a woman's. She didn't look very happy, and she kept sending glares in Thor's direction. Tony remembered meeting her over the holidays from the year before. She was Thor's girlfriend, _pretty _girlfriend, and Clint had spent the majority of Tony's Christmas Party trying to figure out what was wrong with her ("No, seriously, _why Thor?_ Is it the hair? It's the hair, isn't it.")

"Can you guys hear me?" What was her name again? The only things coming to mind were _Despair _and _Hopeless _and he was eighty percent sure those weren't right.

"Yes," Bruce answered, while Steve struggled to process how technology worked. "It's nice to see you again, Miss Foster."

"You too, Doctor, and just Jane is fine." Oh, _Jane. _No wonder it had slipped his mind. Jane tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. "Hello Captain."

"Good morning Mi—er, Jane," Steve replied politely.

"Hey Clint, Tony."

Clint gave a grunt of acknowledgement and Tony flopped his wrist around in an attempt to wave. Jane laughed good naturedly, but she quickly became all business.

"Sorry about Thor," she said, ignoring the god's small whine of protest, "he got some news earlier this week and hasn't been the same since."

"What news?"

Jane pursed her lips. "I'm pregnant," she said flatly.

No jaw in the room went unhinged.

"And he's the daddy. And apparently that's really embarrassing for gods."

Clint was the first to make a sound; he whooped, then threw his head back and had a good laugh at Thor's expense. "Didn't know you had it in you, Big Guy!"

From behind Jane, Thor whined again, crossing his arms and pouting. "It is no laughing matter," he said weakly, drowned out by Clint's laughter.

"Congrats," Bruce said with a happy smile. Steve made the same face he'd made before saying something about 'the Japs' last week, which gave Tony a good enough heads up to jump in before Steve's ignorance started showing.

"Should I make plans for a wedding soon?" he asked from his armchair, lolling his head to the side so Jane could see just how invested in the conversation he was.

Jane laughed. "I wouldn't go that far," she smiled. "But anyway, the reason Thor can't be with you guys is because he wants to be around me. I told him he didn't have to, but he was…ah…_adamant_."

Clint chuckled again. "I have no trouble believing that." Absently swinging his legs over the side of his chair, Clint turned to Tony. "So can any of your plans work without Thor?"

"Um," Tony said thoughtfully. "No." He thumped his head against the armrest.

"Plans for what?" Jane asked.

Bruce delved into the explanation of Tony's predicament. When he finished, Jane's face was smothered by Thor's hand and pushed out of the shot. "I can assist with your troubles!" he said excitedly. "Or, I can lead you to someone who can assist. He is very good with magic!"

"Thor," Steve said, "_please_ don't say Loki."

The blond was silent a moment. "I know of _other_ sources that are also good with magic!"

Bruce and Tony exchanged wary glances. "Alright, Thor. We'll hear you out."

Thor grinned then winced—Jane had recovered from being shoved and smacked him firmly on the shoulder. She peered into the camera again, looking a bit worse for wear. "Ow," she muttered, then, "Are you sure? The last person Thor introduced me to was—"

"Was a great warrior!" Thor interrupted, all smiles. "And he got along pleasantly with Darcy!"

"No, he threatened Darcy's life," Jane corrected. She bit her lip. "Uh, three times."

"They were affectionate threats."

Clint made a face and Steve mirrored it. Bruce took one look at them and turned to Tony. "This is your call."

Tony was fresh out of ideas, fresh out of lies, and running dangerously low on hope. "Yeah, sure, why not. I mean, what's the worse that could happen?"

* * *

About halfway into Thor's 'help', Tony seriously began to question his life.

Beside him, Bruce had stopped the god to ask a question. "Wait, wait, we'll find this place before or after the…" he glanced at his notepad and frowned. "…Babbling Brook of Bragi?"

"Before," Thor answered, completely serious.

"Ah." Bruce tried not to sigh. "Um, please go on."

* * *

"So, Tony."

Tony knew where that was going. He side-stepped a puddle of mud and pointed at Clint. "Don't. Even. Dare."

The archer shot him a smile. "Anything you really don't want me to know right now?"

Tony intensified his glare. He felt betrayed by his own tongue as he said, "Yes."

"Care to elaborate?"

Oh, Tony would find a way to turn this back on Clint. That was a _promise_. "When I was little my mother made me take ballet. There's still pictures of me in a tu-tu."

"Can Jarvis help me find those?"

"Of course." Tony could feel his mortification growing.

"Excellent! Please continue!"

With narrowed eyes, Tony proceeded to tell Clint about his third year at MIT when he mistook his teacher for a stripper; the first time he'd met Pepper and he threw up on her shoes; and how Jarvis videoed him dancing around his room last week and refused to destroy the evidence. Resistance to the spell was futile; Tony found out the hard way.

By the midpoint of their journey, Tony had shoved his shirt in his mouth and, very red-faced, glued himself to Steve's side, while Clint repeated every story word for word to Bruce.

Tony spent the remainder of the time contemplating how make Clint's death as _flashy_ and _public_ as possible.

* * *

"We should've stopped at the Babbling Brook of Brags-a-lot."

Clint looked rightfully alarmed as their group approached a beaten up cabin in the middle of, apparently, magical woods. Thor's directions had received more strange looks than agreement when he'd given it to them. Jane just nodded throughout the entire ordeal like it happened to her all the time, and now that Tony thought about it, it probably did.

"I think it was called Bragi," Steve said shakily. "And I agree."

They followed Bruce up the front steps, and Tony gave a manly shriek when I pair of eyes blinked at him from underneath the porch. He made sure to stick extra close to Clint after that, even if it meant getting laughed at for not bringing a weapon (and the Iron Man Detachable hand in his pocket didn't count).

"So," Clint said as they filed around the front door, "so I'm not getting good vibes from this place."

"Neither am I," Steve said, looking green. "Do you smell that?"

"Smells like a bathroom that's been festering for years right?" Bruce matched Steve in color. "Yeah, I smell that too."

Tony was going to add his complaints when Clint appeared behind him. "I vote Tony knocks," he said in a rush, shoving him forward

Tony couldn't quite protest, since Clint sent him stumbling forward. His head collided with door, giving a solid _THUNK _and Tony saw stars for a few seconds. No response came from inside the cabin, but after nearly twenty seconds of waiting Clint freaked and pulled out his bow. He narrowed his eyes at a perfectly still tree, released his arrow, and grinned when a grunt of pain could be heard.

"Way to go Clint," Tony mumbled, still trying to blink away stars. "You made a tree cry."

Clint opened his mouth to respond. "_I AM NO TREE!"_

Tony, alarmed, took a few hasty steps back. "I wasn't calling you a tree! I _wasn't_ calling _you_ a tree!"

Clint rolled his eyes. "That wasn't me, tough guy."

"Then who—"

"My money's on him," Bruce said, pointing at a figure leaning on the tree Clint had shot at.

The figure stepped into the light, and for the second time that day Tony found himself gaping.

It was man. Or, it looked like a man. He was easily ten feet tall and built like an ox—and had an axe slung over his shoulders to boot. An enormous, hairy moustache was perched on his upper lip, the same shiny blond as the mane of hair on his head. With one meaty fist, he pulled Clint's arrow out of his shoulder and _snapped it_.

Like a _twig_.

"I think I found the worst that could happen," Bruce muttered, while Clint made childish grabby motions for his arrow. The archer made a ferocious sound and readied his bow again—only to have Steve grab the thing and give Clint his best glare.

"Stop being so hostile!"

"Yeah, tell me stop breathing while you're at it," Clint sniffed. "That, that _thing _just broke my arrow. If anyone is being hostile it's _him._"

"I can hear you," the giant man said, regarding Clint with narrowed blue eyes.

"Talk quieter," Tony advised Clint, still peeved about the exploitation of the spell from earlier. Turning to the huge man, he cleared his throat. "You wouldn't happen to know who lives in this….distinguished cabin, would you?"

"Aye," the man grunted.

"…is it you?"

"Aye."

Steve gave it a try. "Do you have a name?"

"Aye."

"…what is it?"

"Enid," said the man, now examining Clint's arrow with obvious disinterest. "Who sent you?"

"Friend of ours," Tony said amiably. "Huge, blond, has this damn hammer, punches like his fists are made of stone—know him?"

Enid immediately focused on him. "Are you speaking of the Son of Odin?" He sneered. "You four are friends with the Son of Odin?"

"If by Son of Odin you mean Thor, then yeah," Clint said. "He told us you could help…" the obvious _but I think he was mistaken _was better left unsaid.

"Help? With what do you need my assistance?"

Bruce nudged Tony. He stepped forward, mildly uncomfortable. "You…you wouldn't happen to know how to reverse spells, would you?"

"No," Enid answered honestly. "But I am trained to make other creatures reverse their spells using force." Suddenly the axe on his back was a lot scarier. And bloodier.

"Oh," was all Tony could manage.

* * *

**notes the second**: this was hastily written; so sorry for the shortness, and any mistakes. also, I realized Clint had yet to make fun of Tony because of this spell, so I just threw something in there. I promise some funnier stuff in the future.  
**notes the third**: Yes, my excuse for Thor being gone is lame. But Natalie Portman's pregnancy inspired me...or something. And I'm really bad at Asgardian-Speak, so there's that too.

thanks for all your feedback!


	4. Chapter 4

**notes**: short chapter today. sorry, I'm just lacking creativity :(

**notes the second:** due to enlightenment because of a recent review, things will probably get a bit more whumpy soon. it'll still be humorous though, so don't pack your bags just yet. also, sorry for any and all mistakes. I'm terrible at proofreading. blahblahblah, yadda, okay that's enough of me talking.

**enjoy ^^**

* * *

"So," Clint sidled up to Tony, poking him in the side, "so, yeah, I think this dude's crazy."

Tony shushed him; Enid was literally a few feet away, and Clint still hadn't mastered the art of talking quietly. The burly man was talking with Bruce, who turned out to be the only person that _didn't _feel like running away from Enid really, really fast.

Steve, all six feet of him, seemed tiny in comparison to Enid's outrageous size. Tony nearly laughed when the supersoldier's eyes bugged out of his head as he tried to comprehend that the guy was _really big. _He appeared from behind Clint's shoulder, matching his dubious expression perfectly. "I agree," Steve hissed. "This Enid guy could two-time us."

Tony rolled his eyes at both of them. "He could, yeah," he admitted, "but I don't think he will. Thor's a piece of work sometimes, but he's trustworthy. If he says Enid'll help us, then he'll help us." He paused. "Did you just say two-time? Sheesh, you really should get the Big Book of Twenty-First Century Slang; it'll do wonders in your vocabulary."

Steve glared at him, still unconvinced, and Clint scowled.

Tony shuffled away from both of them as they engaged in heated whispers, trying to take in the sheer _what the hell-_ness of the cabin's interior.

For one, there were dead things. Everywhere. Taxidermy rodents and birds and, holy shit, he was pretty sure a human head was mounted on the back wall. If space wasn't occupied by a dead thing, there was some kind of potion bottled up and sitting on a shelf.

Struck with curiosity, Tony plucked a random bottle. The label read: Oozing. Just Oozing. If Tony had a week, he wouldn't be able to list all the possibilities that came to his head of what oozing could mean.

Very carefully, he placed the bottle where he'd found it and scampered to Bruce's side.

Bruce was deep in conversation with Enid, and looked as calm as he always did. Tony shouldn't have expected anything less; when Bruce was Bruce, he was serene as the ocean or something. As long as the Other Guy didn't stop by for a visit…

"Tony!" Tony stopped pondering Bruce's tranquility to listen to what he was actually saying. "Good, you're here. Enid has a pretty good idea of what caused, ah, this," he gestured limply at the entirety of Tony's body, "but he needs a thorough description of what the girl that did this to you looked like."

Tony winced. "I can't help you there," he said apologetically. "I can't remember the incident at all. Maybe Clint or Steve could…" he trailed off, noticing Bruce's eyes flickering behind him.

Tony peered over his shoulder. At some point, Clint had deemed it necessary to draw his bow, which he was pointing at a stuffed raccoon, giving it the stink eye. Steve was close behind him, squinting at a potion and flushing a deep red.

Tony heard Bruce facepalm before he saw it.

"Right…" he sighed. "Just give me a sec, I'll slap some sense into them," he said to Enid.

The large man grunted his approval.

Tony stormed through half the store and smacked Clint on the back of the head; he was telling the complete truth when he said 'smack some sense.' While Clint whined, he snatched the bottle from Steve's fingers, ignored the yelp, and did his best not to make a crack about the shade of red Steve had turned.

"Are you guys going to be paranoid immature _grown-ass men_ some more, or are you going to help me get rid of this curse?"

"Spell," Steve supplied, still slightly flushed.

"Immature?" Clint echoed, readying his bow again,

"What_ever_," he said to Steve, and flat out ignored Clint. "Just pull yourselves together before Enid adds you to his collection." He pointed lazily at the walls covered in severed heads.

That bit of truth was incentive enough for the two _grown-ass men, dammit _to quit pouting and follow Tony to where Enid and Bruce were.

Tony did his best to ignore Clint's description of the woman from earlier, though it was hard since the archer kept making exaggerated hand motions and swinging his elbows dangerously close to his nose. Bruce chuckled and Tony scowled at him, which only made Bruce chuckle louder.

Before Tony could go find that Oozing potion and give it to Bruce as an early Christmas present, Enid clapped his hands together (effectively scaring the pants of Bruce) and came to a conclusion.

"The witch you are in search of is the same one who cursed my shop mere days ago." Enid looked enraged by the thought, and both Steve and Clint inched away from him. "The wretched creature's name is Fabula. Thankfully, she is not the brightest. It will be easy to draw her out."

"Yeah?" Tony brightened. "How will we get her to get rid of the spell?"

"That is easy as well," Enid said. "Your friend's…_in depth_ storytelling-" he glanced at Clint, and Clint positively _glowed_, "-has informed me that she used a wand to cast the spell on you. If you break her wand, any spell she has cast with it will vanish, or in your case, reverse."

Tony whooped and swung his palm in Bruce's face for a high five. Bruce brushed it aside, still skeptical. "Let's say we do capture her; what makes you think she'll just hand over the wand?"

"Sir Killjoy has a point," Clint said gravely. "Even you should remember the way she was clutching the thing, Tony. It was like a third arm to her." He patted his bow lovingly. "And I know a thing or two about being attached to something like that. There's no way we'll ever get her to give it up."

Enid scoffed, rubbing his palms together with obvious glee. "Both of you are correct; Fabula will never willingly hand over any of her possessions. Though, I never spoke of her handing over _anything_."

He cast a meaningful look at Tony that made his stomach twist.

"You…you aren't saying that we'll have to kill her, are you?"

"Such words never left my mouth," Enid said with false innocence. "However, if you insist, then I will make plans." He grinned at Steve, and turned to clap Tony heavily on the shoulder. "Have no fear, friend! You will have your revenge on Fabula, just you wait."

With that, he thundered past them all, grinning, and disappeared into the back of the cabin. Tony, Bruce, and Steve wore matching expressions of _'oh shit_' while Clint's arrow went wide of Enid's retreating form and stuck into the wall instead.

"Hey Stark," Clint growled as he readied his bow again, "what was that you were saying about Thor?"

Bruce answered for Tony; "Clint, do everyone in this cabin a favor, and stop talking."

"You say to the guy wielding a weapon."

"_You _say to the guy that can crush you at will."

Steve held up his hands. "And the guy that can body slam _both _of you says to _put a sock in it_." Tony barely looked up when Steve placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're not going to kill anyone," he said sternly, and Tony did look up, if only to roll his eyes at him.

"I couldn't agree more." He cracked a smile at Steve, and Steve cracked a smile right back, and Clint immediately began to whine about their bromance grossing him out.

Bruce took the liberty of silencing Clint with his palm over his mouth. Tony gave him a thank you nod. He straightened his shoulders, rose to his full height and gave them all a grave look.

"First priority is to make sure Enid doesn't put that axe to good use. Second is to catch this Fabula character ourselves. If anyone's going to break her wand, it'll be me." He lifted his eyebrows. "Everyone in?"

"I'm game."

"Aye, aye, Mr. Stark."

"As long as her ass meets my arrow I'm game too."

"Excellent." Tony smirked; now he felt more like himself, which was just how he liked things. "Now let's go piss off a giant."


	5. Chapter 5

**notes**: oh no! I'm a day off schedule! D: sorry for being late; I'll make sure to write the chapters faster!  
**notes the second:** please tell me about any and all errors. I proofread this myself and I have yet to master the art of editing.

_thank you for reviewing/favoriting/following/alerting! I get the funniest reviews from you guys xD_

**disfrutar! ^^**

* * *

In his crazed sprint, Tony didn't notice the tree root until he'd tripped over it. He was already far behind Steve, Bruce, and Clint, and now he'd fallen to boot.

He scrambled to pick himself out of the mud. Grass and vines slithered to him, wrapping around his wrists and ankles then flipping him onto his back.

"Steve was right," Tony hissed as a looming silhouette lumbered toward him. Damn, the magical forest swallowed up most on the sunlight in the canopy, and even then, it was getting dark.

"Would now be a bad time to ask what hair product you use?" Tony tried, as an axe blade came into view.

* * *

_Ten minutes earlier…_

* * *

Steve came up with the plan, unsurprisingly. Tony gave him his full attention and tried not to think about how hard it would be to catch a magical creature that didn't want to be caught. He wasn't doing a very good job.

"Steve, we don't need to have a defensive play. He's not going to attack us," Bruce said, exasperated. "Just because he's a big guy with an axe…"

"Not everyone's as plush and cuddly as the Hulk," Clint said. "And telling Steve to not make plans is like telling Natasha to stop killing people when we all go to sleep."

The two bickered on for a few moments more. Tony finally understood why people were so annoyed by him—watching a man act like a five year old was much less entertaining than it sounded.

"Hey—_hey,"_ Tony snapped, trying to catch their attention. "Listen, I think it's highly unlikely that Enid's going to attack us, but if Steve wants to make a plan, we'll make a plan. Just know that I don't have the suit with me, and the glove I brought might not be fully charged."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Steve blinked. "Thanks for being the grown up here, Tony."

"You're welcome," Tony smiled, "and Clint, take that arrow and—"

"_Okay_," Bruce interrupted. "Steve, you're finished right? Can we just go tell him and get it over with?"

Steve pouted. "Fine."

.

.

.

.

Tony couldn't have been more wrong, to put it lightly.

They trudged to the back of the cabin in a wall like formation. Clint had his out, swinging it around casually. He accidentally on purpose smacked the back of Tony's knees with it, and when the billionaire turned to throttle him, smirked, "Two words; _tutu._"

Tony blinked at him in complete bewilderment. Finally, it registered, and he was very thankful that he was Tony Stark, or he might have found that mortifying. "Tutu is one word, dumbass," he said finally, shoving Clint's face away with his hand.

"No, it's two. See, the first tu is one word and then the other is—"

"Shut up," Tony said. They were standing in a corridor with a single door at the end of it. An eerie glow came from underneath the door, and call Tony crazy but there was definitely pounding coming from inside. "That practically screams _horror movie cliché_. Steve—Steve _don't touch it!_"

Call it a hunch, but after last summer's do-si-do with Loki, Tony had a certain hatred for anything that had an eerie glow. Eerie glows were usually associated with magic, and Tony _really _hated magic.

Steve ignored him outright and grabbed the door's handle. He had that look on his face—the one where he stopped being Steve and started being Captain America, down to the bone. In one swift motion, he flung open the door.

The light was _blinding._

Tony lifted his hand to shield his eyes, and in his state of vulnerability heard the most pitiful cry for help. The light subsided and he squinted forward.

The first thing he saw was Steve's ass.

But then Steve turned and in his arms was the smallest, thinnest, frailest man he'd ever laid eyes on. It was obvious the man's hair had once been blond, but age and fatigue had turned it into a weak gray. Wrinkles overtook his face and every time he inhaled, Tony heard his ribs clatter.

Steve stared at him like he didn't know what to do. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

The man's mouth opened and closed, resembling a fish out of water. He made a tiny wheezing sound and finally rasped, "_Beware_."

Beside him, Bruce muttered, "Oh _damn_," and Tony was certain that this was infinitely worse than any horror film.

Steve's eyes had left the frail man's and were staring at something above Tony's head. Tony had watched enough TV in his life to know that whatever was standing behind him was probably going to make him shit his pants.

Slowly, he turned…

And came face to face with a hideous, snarling beast—green gums bared to the world and saliva dripping like rainfall. Tony averted his eyes immediately; naturally, he repelled ugly creatures like that. He paused and looked again, leaned forward and peered closely…

"Shit," Clint said, realizing in the same moment Tony did, "is that _Enid?_"

At any other time, Tony would've dismissed the words coming out of Clint's mouth as idiocy—but for once the archer was on to something.

Tony took a shaking step back and gave the Enid-monster a onceover. If possible, he was even bigger than before. His clothes were torn and ripped from growing out of them too rapidly. The axe in his meaty hands was twice as large as it had been before, and if that wasn't convincing enough, he had that greasy mane of blond hair that swayed by his shoulders just like Enid's.

Tony really wanted to know why the Hulk wasn't here right now.

"Ah, Bruce?" he said, stepping back slowly. Clint had his arrow trained between Enid's eyes, but he doubted that would do much to stop him. "Suiting up would be _highly_ _appreciated_ right now."

"I-I –" Tony glanced at Bruce. The doctor looked very distressed, running his hands through his hair then staring at them in utter amazement. "I _can't_."

"Oh," Tony said. "That's seriously inconvenient."

"_Run_," rasped the man Steve was holding.

Everyone moved at once. Steve spun and sprinted into the depths of the room Tony had been wary of before—he was quickly followed by Clint, Bruce, Tony, and Enid, loping after them and roaring.

The room was bigger than it appeared, and in the back Tony could see a small window. "Break the glass," Steve told Clint, still attempting to keep the small man collected in his arms. Clint obeyed instantly; it took two well place kicks but the glass did shatter, and they were given an exit.

"Get him out first," Bruce said to Steve. Enid roared again, behind them, taking out tables and various other items in the room as he stomped toward them. "Clint hold him off."

A volley of arrows stuck themselves in Enid's blood-red eyes; he reared back and howled in pain. Steve made it out the window, then Bruce and Tony and finally Clint, still firing arrows.

"Bruce lead the way. You still have Thor's map."

While they sprinted away from the cabin, Bruce fumbled for the scrap paper in his pocket. Tony looked over his shoulder to see the entire back half of the cabin give way for the monstrous Enid—and _holy shit _did he look angry.

"Faster, _faster,"_ Tony warned everyone, and they doubled their speed. Keeping up with Steve was next to impossible, and within five minutes Tony felt like giving up.

"If we get into the woods, we'll have the trees as cover," Steve yelled over his shoulder. " Bruce, can you –er—suit up yet?"

"No – I-I'm not sure. Whatever was in that cabin…it…it locked the Other Guy _up. _I couldn't even sense him…" Bruce sounded shaken. "I'm angry… but it's like he's too _tired_ to make an appearance."

"Don't fall back then," Steve ordered, and Tony _listened. _"If he gets you, you're a goner."

The woods came up on them; suddenly they were crunching sticks and kicking up stones. Tony felt himself puttering out. The others got further and further ahead…

In his crazed sprint, Tony didn't notice the tree root until he'd tripped over it. He was already behind Steve, Bruce, and Clint, and now he'd fallen to boot.

He scrambled to pick himself out of the mud. Grass and vines slithered to him, wrapping around his wrists and ankles then flipping him onto his back.

"Steve was right," Tony hissed as a looming silhouette lumbered toward him. Damn, the magical forest swallowed up most on the sunlight in the canopy, and even then, it was getting dark. The whole situation was eerie.

"Would now be a bad time to ask what hair product you use?" Tony tried, as an axe blade came into view.

Rather then finish him off, Enid leaned down and sneered. For the second time, Tony was given a great view of green gums and slimy spit. "MAN OF IRON," Enid spoke, "YOU HAVE COMMITTED THE ULTIMATE CRIME, AND NOW YOU MUST PAY THE ULTIMATE PRICE."

The axe blade swung down. Tony ripped his right side free of the vegetation and rolled, narrowly missing the blade. He pulled the remaining vines out of the ground, freeing himself and again missing Enid's blade.

An arrow came to his rescue, lodging itself directly between Enid's eyes. While he cried out in agony, Tony made a mad dash for safety.

The whole light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel bit was a load of _bull; _Tony only saw pure terror clouding his vision as he stared death in the eye. Fear became a taste on his tongue, the only thought in his mind. A bright light coming to take him away would've been far more comforting. In the back of his mind, Tony worried that someone would ask him what he had felt like. He didn't have a choice, he would _have _to say the _truth_ and admit to feeling the worse fear in his life.

The worst fear in his life _plus _the heaviest amount of doubt he'd ever felt. If Enid was actually a monster in need of a dentist, than who would be Tony's Plan B for finding Fabula?

The whole situation made his shake with anger. Tony didn't know how and he didn't know when, but he was positive that he was going to make Fabula _suffer_.

They lost Enid amidst the trees, and thanks to Bruce's directions, they actually made it out of the woods alive. Tony and Bruce doubled over, wheezing like the man in Steve's arms. Clint had taken to facing the woods, arrow poised and ready to fire.

Tony clapped Bruce on the back. "You okay?"

"Think so," Bruce replied with a fair amount of trouble. He still seemed torn over the predicament from earlier. "My god, I haven't run like that since high school."

"Makes me wish I went with Steve on his morning jogs," Tony joked. "Is it possible to puke your lungs out? Because I feel like I'm going to."

"No, but you can vomit through your nose."

Tony stared at him. "Ew," he said finally. Then, "I couldn't say ew enough times to accurately portray how _disgusting_ that sounds."

"Since you're talking about vomit, I'm going to assume you're both fine." Steve frowned and looked at Clint. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, Cap. I don't see anything, so that's a good sign. This place is still giving me the creeps though—let's get home so we can figure out what the hell just happened."

"Agreed. Tony, find where we parked the car." Tony saluted him, and Steve gave his attention to the man he was still carrying. "Uh, sir? Are you okay?"

There was nothing but the sound of labored breathing for a long time. Finally… "_Yes…_"

Steve looked relieved. "Do you have any sort of head injury? Can you remember what day it is—or tell us your name?"

The man stared at Steve in silence. For an agonizing moment, Tony thought he might have died—but the man shuddered to live. He took a deep breath and rasped out, "_Enid."_


	6. Chapter 6

**notes**: meh. this chapter didn't go the way I originally planned it to. I wanted more funny, less angst...oh well. I still like it, and hopefully so do you!  
**notes** **the second**: I've been considering adding titles to chapters. it would take me a while, but I actually might get around to it; who knows.

***warnings: **cursing in this chapter. well, like in every chapter but it's noteworthy this time. I think. /shrugs

_did you like last chapter's plot twist/cliffie? yes? no? are you enjoying my writing style? the story line? leave me some constructive criticism!_

**jouir! ^^**

* * *

Thankfully, Pepper had stuck around. She was only person in the whole building that was capable of getting Tony to sleep when he was incredible agitated. Under normal circumstances, anyway. This situation was decidedly abnormal, and Tony was still pacing about his room despite the time.

Pepper was curled up on the bed, watching him. He made a point of ignoring her pleas, and instead nearly walked a rut into the ground.

"Tony," Pepper tried, patting the pillow beside her, "you can try to piece this together tomorrow. Just go to sleep…"

"Can't," Tony replied shortly, slightly muffled by the hand covering his mouth and chin. He glanced at her weary expression and added, "This is too much right now. I couldn't sleep if I tried."

Pepper sat up. "Can you at least talk to me then? You've been pacing in silence for hours."

"I could try," Tony said, "but no promises that you'll understand it all."

"Do you know who you're talking to? I spent the whole day with Natasha because you boys ditched us. I think I'll understand."

So Tony tried.

He tried really hard.

He talked for at least an hour, pitching ideas and taking them back and revising them and pitching them again, mouth moving so fast Pepper could hardly keep up. He explained everything he could remember, and tried to put reasoning behind the Enid Fiasco, as he'd dubbed it. Pepper listened diligently, and by the time Tony had finished he was sprawled out on the bed with his head was in her lap and she was combing her fingers through his hair, trying to process it all.

There were a few minutes of silence before she said anything. "Would you have told me all that if you didn't have this truth curse thing?"

"Uh, no," Tony admitted. "Does that make you mad?"

"Not really. I figured as much." Pepper pressed her lips on his forehead in a lingering kiss. "I have a couple questions though."

"Ask away."

"So Thor lead you to that Enid guy," Pepper said thoughtfully, "and he was completely normal until you mentioned finding Fabula."

"Yes."

"And after that, you went to the back of his cabin and found an old man that claimed to be Enid, and the other Enid turned into a monster and tried to kill you."

"That's not really a question, Pep."

"I'm not finished yet." Pepper's face pulled down in a deep frown. "So now you have two supposed Enids and you need to figure out which Enid is lying?"

"Yes," Tony said again. He looked a little confused. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I think so," Pepper answered, her voice distant. Her entire expression was thoughtful and she paused in her motion of playing with Tony's hair. "Where's the old man Enid now?"

"Bruce's floor," Tony said. "He's got him hooked up to an IV, but it's not working the way it should. He thinks he might not make it."

"So he's been getting worse, and the monster Enid is still on the loose?"

"…Yes…" Tony couldn't figure out where Pepper was going with this.

Pepper bit her lower lip shyly. "Don't think I'm crazy for this. I'm serious; what I'm about to say is probably nuts."

"Pepper," Tony said seriously, "this entire day has been nuts. You can't faze me."

It took a few more minutes of coaxing for Pepper to steel herself and say it.

"Tony, I-I think you've been played."

Tony sat up abruptly. "What?" he asked, though he was pretty sure he could see her reasoning.

Enid had seemed plenty normal, even having a topic trigger anger was rather normal, but he had said Fabula wasn't bright. He was trying to throw them off; convince the team Fabula would be easy to catch so they'd let their guard down and trust him. He said something to upset them, seemed to ignore their reaction, and lead them to a closed off place when their guard was down.

Tony remembered the chill that had gone down his spine when he saw the magical glow from that door. Yet, when they went inside the room, nothing was actually glowing.

Then they'd found this shell of a man calling himself Enid. The real Enid, the first Enid, the one that actually could have helped them find Fabula, but he was too weak to even lift his head.

She was taunting him with her whereabouts. And damn it all, Tony couldn't even remember what she looked like.

A trap.

A trick.

A _game. _

And he had played right into it.

"_Son of a bitch_," Tony seethed, jumping to his feet. Pepper gave a small yelp of surprise and called him back, but Tony kept walking—stomping really—until he was in his kitchen and headed straight for the scotch.

His mind was clouded with pure rage—how _dare _Fabula play him like that? He was going to fucking _dance on her ashes _when he got the chance.

Tony downed to glasses before he slowed down and slumped over the counter. His forehead rested against the cool surface and Tony found his energy ebbing away.

And, despite everything, he fell asleep.

* * *

Word to the wise; sleeping on a kitchen counter with your face smushed on the surface and the edges digging into your crotch was going to make you _mighty sore _the next morning.

Tony woke up with a strangled roar of pain, then rolled and thudded onto the ground. Somehow, he'd kept a grip on his scotch glass the whole night, only for it to shatter as he tried to break his fall.

Tony roared again.

He stood and stretched, feeling his muscles groan. Last night's revelation was still fresh in his head, but since he'd gone through phase one of Tony Stark's Anger Management (loud rage and drinking) he was on to phase two (silent rage and plotting against whoever the fuck had crossed him).

When Steve came in, Tony was already finished sweeping up the glass.

"What happened?" Steve asked, sweaty and slightly out of breath. He must've gone for a jog that morning, Tony thought, the psycho. "Sounded like a fight in here."

"I fell," Tony answered. "Off the counter. Because I slept on it. With a scotch glass in my hand. "

Steve blinked. "…what?"

"Bad night," Tony clarified. He switched on the coffee maker and hope Cap would leave it at that.

Cap didn't leave it.

"Want to talk about it?" If it were possibly, Steve had managed to make himself look even more like a stuffed bear that you could hug and whisper secrets to. Tony refused to make eye contact with him, in fear of the soldier putting him under a trance or something of the sort.

"Not really." Tony pulled out two mugs—coffee didn't have much of an effect on Steve, but Steve drank it anyway, out of habit. "I mean, I probably should-" _damn truth spell _"-but I don't think I'm ready to just yet. I might start breaking things."

Steve frowned with his whole face. "That bad?"

"Worse." Eager to jump topics, Tony said, "Have you seen Bruce yet? Or Clint?"

"Clint went jogging with me, and I think he's in the shower now. But I haven't seen Bruce. Why do you ask?"

Tony knew trying to keep the truth from Steve would be useless, so he said it of his own free will. "I have a theory. Or, Pepper had a theory and it was a good one so I ran with it. It involves Enid. Er, the old man Enid that Bruce is trying to fix."

"You want to share it with me?"

"Well I'll have to eventually," Tony admitted. "But for right now, I'll pass. No offense."

He poured coffee into both mugs and handed one to Steve. Steve accepted and took a long sip before saying anything. "None taken. I guess you'd want at least a few secrets with this magic mumbo jumbo going on."

Tony smiled at him. "Thanks for understanding. You're…you're a real good friend, Cap."

Then it dawned on him what he had just said—and _meant_—and before Steve could make a comment he evacuated the kitchen for the living room. No, he was not going to discuss feelings, truth spell or not, _thank you very much._ "Jarvis, put on the news."

_Yes sir._

Tony plopped on a couch and made himself comfortable while the TV flickered to life. He inhaled a huge gulp of coffee.

On the TV, there was news about a small fire in an apartment complex. It was started by a little girl and a match; they interviewed the girl, the reporter playfully instructing her to stay away from fire. The camera zoomed in on her face as she nodded and promised to do just that, except with a childish charm that made Tony want to pinch her cheeks, despite being the kind of person that want to imprison grandmas and great-aunts for doing that.

Tony made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat.

And then he choked on his coffee.

"Jarvis, pause! Wait, er, rewind back to the kid's face then pause."

The TV screen flashed as the program went back a few second. It stopped, and Tony hacked so ferociously he nearly spilt his drink.

Cap came in, slowly sipping his hot drink and gave Tony the same look he gave iPads. "Something wrong?"

"Jar—_ugh_—Jarvis, zoom in!" The picture of the girl enlarged and Tony walked closer to the television, squinting…

"That's her!" He pointed at the screen and danced, spilling coffee all around him. "Cap that's _her_, that's Fabula! I remember her now, from yesterday morning!"

Steve peered at the TV. "Tony, that looks nothing like her. She's got a completely different hair color. And she has freckles."

"Distractions, Cap." Tony jabbed a thumb at the screen. "It's the same face and look in her eye. The looks like she quietly wants to skewer your heart and barbeque it." Tony silently marveled at his ability to exaggerate even while being forced to tell the truth, then realized that the description was the _exact truth. _"She's in the city!"

"Tony," Steve said slowly, "I think whatever happened to you last night is messing with you ability to be…reasonable. Maybe you should…go back to bed or something."

Tony paused in his excited rant to stare in bewilderment at Steve. "What? No, I'm perfectly fine. I'm telling the truth—I remember Fabula from yesterday morning, and that girl is her." _She's taunting me. _"She's in this city, and I don't know what she's planning but it definitely needs to be stopped. This news feed is live; if we leave now we might be able to get there in time—"

"Tony, listen to yourself! Just because you're mad about getting cursed doesn't mean you can go accusing every little girl you see!"

A tense silence hung in the air.

"She's a criminal," Tony said, caring too much about Cap's words than he would've liked. "And us? We stop criminals—especially those of the magical variety. It's just like fighting Loki, or Doctor Doom. I can't see why this would be any different."

"'Cos you're compromised," Clint said amiably from out of no where. Tony jumped at least a foot in the air; Clint just _appeared _beside him out of _thin air_. He gaped at the archer, too shocked to fully process what he'd just said.

"I'm…what?"

"Compromised," Clint repeated, and now Tony could see that he was munching down on a bagel that had also appeared from no where. He was really going to have to spy-proof his house. "You're kind of a liability at the moment."

Steve nodded in shy agreement. Tony blinked at both at them, then said, full deadpan, "_What._"

"Let's say you get captured," Clint offered, "and interrogated. What can you do? You'll give whoever anything they ask. SHIELD and even we as a team have too many secrets for that." Clint paused to chew thoughtfully. "Also, we don't know if this hocus pocus messed with your brain or not. So there's that, too."

"You talk too much," Steve grumbled.

"Not like you were gonna say it." Clint had that steely expression that appeared whenever he talked about being a kid. "Fury's just a bit worried, is all. You understand though, right?"

Tony felt, in a word, betrayed. And as melodramatic as it felt to admit that, it was the only word that came to mind. He wondered how long they'd been thinking about that. Did they talk about him behind his back? Or worse—did that talk about him with _Fury _behind his back? Were they reduced to giddy high school students, feeding off of rumors and the damnation of others?

"I…" and Tony didn't know what to say next. Because Tony was completely and utterly speechless.

The silence must have stretched on for some time, because Clint was starting to look a little guilty. "It's not you," he said sincerely. "Tony, we trust you, and you know that."

"Do I?" Tony questioned, his voice oddly light and uncaring.

Enter phase three of Tony Stark's Anger Management—distancing himself from anyone who tried to come close.

Phase Three could just as well be used to describe how Tony survived most of the time. Stuck in a perpetual state of stage three anger at the world because of…well, because of _everything_; his father, his life, _himself. _He hadn't thought about it in a while, but Tony had left Phase Three since the start of the Avengers.

Now, he found himself right back in it.

It was too early for these feelings and this news and this _anger_. Tony knew what he needed was alcohol, no matter what Pepper or Steve said. They thought he was _compromised. _They no longer had a say in what he was or wasn't allowed to do.

_Jesus, _what had his life _come to_?

"Good to know," he choked out finally. He sounded emotional, and hurt, and that was enough to make Clint screw up his whole face as if he tasted something terrible.

"Tony, don't do this—"

"Do what? Avenge the people Fabula's killed? Avenge _myself _for what she's done to me? Read the job description Barton," Tony all but snarled. "It's in the name."

He gently set his mug on the coffee table, and walked out of the room, feeling cold, and terrible, and _alone._


	7. Chapter 7

**notes**: this story has over 7000 views and I can't, I really just can't. you guys are amazing.  
**notes the second:** as always, I am my own beta, all mistakes are mine, and there are plenty of mistakes. also, username change!  
**IMPORTANT**: Tomorrow, my extended family from London will be visiting for two weeks. I highly doubt I'll be able to write anything while they're around, so no updates for a while. (lo siento, mis amigos.) When I do get back (assuming I'm not getting ready for school) I'll get the make-up chapters posted asap. Sound good?

**tanoshimu** ^^

* * *

Tony managed about ten minutes of Phase Three Silence (a common side effect) before feeling the ground shake and getting blinded by Jarvis' warning lights. It was, to say the least, a serious damper on his bad mood.

"Ah—_shit_, Jarvis what the _hell_—"

_Doctor Banner, sir. He has insisted that I alert you._

"Alert me about what?"

_He is not currently in control of the Hulk. The result is a rampage, of sorts._

Instantly, Tony's anger melted into worry. "Did he make it into the chamber?" When Tony had first introduced Bruce to the chamber—dubbed the Hulk Zone—Bruce had given him the wary side eye he saved for Clint's weirdest declarations. It took a lot of encouraging but Bruce did seek refuge in the Hulk Zone once or twice. The chamber was built much like SHIELD's holding cell, however there was a code to unlock the plexiglass doors from the inside. Hulk's fingers were much too large to press the buttons, and if he were to ever smash the keyboard Jarvis was programmed to unlock the doors when, and only when Bruce calmed down, so there was no worry of Hulk escaping.

_Yes, sir. However, Doctor Banner has not yet reverted back into his human self. This leaves the patient, Enid, currently unattended. _

Tony was already bounding to the elevator. He hope Steve and Clint were already there; he _hated _awkward elevator rides. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked the AI as the doors closed.

_Possibly. I do not detect any immediate disturbances in his condition. He is, though, quite unstable. There is an obscene amount of untraceable substance in his system. I've been able to match it with the same substance Doctor Banner found in your blood._

"Magic?" Tony squawked. "The bad kind?"

_While that would be most helpful, I fear there are no differences in 'bad' and 'good' magic, sir._

"A guy can dream, Jarvis. Are Steve and Clint on their way to where Enid is now?"

_They just arrived, sir._

"Give them directions on what to do to keep Enid's heart pumping. Tell them what you told me about the magic. I need to get to the Hulk Zone." Tony, as strange as it was, connected with the Hulk in a way no one else could. He was able to hold simple conversations with the big guy, and often able to calm Bruce out of unwanted hulk outs. He seriously hoped now was one of those times.

When the elevator doors slid open again, Tony got an eyeful on the Hulk stomping about the Hulk Zone. It was obvious that he was trying to calm himself, and also that he was in _agony _of some sort, from the way his hands ripped at his air and face.

"Damn," Tony cursed and he rushed to one of the plexiglass walls. "Buddy? Hulk? Listen to me!"

It took a few more minutes of calling and fist-banging for Tony to get the Hulk's attention. Hulk's face lit up; he lumbered to where Tony was.

"HULK NEED HELP."

Tony nodded, "Yeah, you do, big guy. I'm here to help you, don't worry."

The Hulk dropped into a sitting position. He face was still twisted in pain. "HULK HEAD HURT…"

"Your head?" Tony offhandedly asked Jarvis, "His head?"

_I was not aware of this either, sir._

"HULK HEAD HURT BECAUSE…MAGIC. MAGIC DID PAIN TO HULK."

Tony made a mental note to teach the Hulk proper English in the future. He pressed up closer, trying to keep the Hulk's attention. "Magic? Whose magic? When did this start?"

"TINY BRUCE MAN SAYS…" Hulk paused, trying to delve into the part of his brain that Bruce was stuck in. "PAIN START WHEN HE TRIED TO CLOSE BIG CUT ON OLD MAN'S CHEST."

After a moment of translating in his head, Tony started in surprise. "Jarvis, make sure you record all this."

_As you wish, sir._

Tony had not been aware that Enid was physically harmed; the man just look old as hell. And Bruce lost control only when he tried to help him? That was awfully coincidental after he'd been unable to summon the Hulk at all yesterday evening.

This had Fabula written all over it.

"Hulk, buddy, I need you to stay with me," Tony said. Hulk was starting to look bored, picking at his teeth with a huge finger. "Ask Bruce if the magic was Fabula's."

Hulk shifted his position. He scratched his head, huge brow furrowed. then said, "TINY BRUCE MAN SAYS YES."

Tony pushed off the wall. "Well, shit," he said delicately. He pressed against the plexiglass again. "Hulk, I need you to calm down, okay?"

"HULK TRY, TONY," Hulk promised, looking as sincere as he could. Tony would've been touched during any other situation. While the Hulk curled into himself and tried to relax, Tony put the pieces together.

Enid was reeking of Fabula's magic—and no doubt a curse to boot, if Bruce had been provoked just by handling him. There was no way it was meant specifically for Bruce. The doctor probably just had a severe reaction, due to a rare case of hulking out. If Enid had Fabula's magic coursing through him, that meant he had been in contact with her at some point. Most likely before Thor had even directed them to him.

She had foreseen _everything. _

Tony cursed again, just as there was a light tapping on his shoulder. Bruce looked a little worse for wear, but he was wearing a pair of extra pants and he looked ready to work. "Your face," Bruce noticed, "I'm guessing you realized everything I did?"

"Most likely," Tony agreed as they rushed into the elevator. "To sum it up, Fabula's a genius as well as a bitch, right?"

"In a nutshell," Bruce confirmed. The elevator began to rise, and their hearts sank just a little bit more.

.

.

.

.

The first thing Tony heard when the elevator doors opened again was a cry of indignation. That was soon followed by Cap's irate exclamation of, "I don't know what any of this means! You're actually from this time, you have a better chance of getting it right than I do!"

Bruce looked torn between keeping his expression solemn and laughing at the plight of the other two. Tony didn't have time for this, and he was still massively peeved at Steve and Clint, because _compromised his ass. _

"Jarvis, what's going on?"

_Mr. Barton and Captain Rogers do not understand my instructions, _Jarvis explained, and Tony knew that if Jarvis had eyes he would be rolling them.

"That's expected," Bruce hummed. He snapped his fingers, calling the attention of the arguing men. "Guys? Something wrong?"

Relief washed over both their faces. They shuffled away from a machine Enid was hooked up to.

Tony raised an eyebrow at both of them.

"We, uh, aren't good with…any of that," Steve clarified, somewhat sheepish. Tony wanted to crack a joke but Phase Three was a near permanent thing. The only thing Tony felt inclined to do was snarl at them like a rabid animal.

"Yeah, no kidding," Bruce spoke up. Jarvis was listing off things rapidly and Bruce seemed to have no trouble keeping up; he hooked up wires and flipped switches and adjusted the oxygen mask on Enid's face. "Has he woken up since I...uh…"

"No," Clint cut in, saving Bruce the trouble of saying it. "He snored once, though. It was pretty nasty sounding. 'S like he's got something clogging up his chest."

"Probably just excess mucus," Bruce said flippantly. Clint made a face of pure disgust and distanced himself from Enid with an exaggerated step.

Steve had, at some point, closed the gap between he and Tony. He stood uncomfortably close, with that _kicked puppy _look on full power. "I…I just wanted to apologize. Clint and I were out of line to talk to you like that."

Tony stiffened. He wished he had something to throw at Steve, or had his suit so he could throw a punch and actually do damage. He was going to need a lot more than a single apology before his anger level went back to normal.

"Hell yeah you were," he said, his voice tight in an attempt to control it. "But we can talk about that later. Bruce and I discovered some stuff that's only going to make our job twice as shitty."

"Also," Bruce said, "I'm pretty sure the Enid we met in the forest was a decoy."

That…actually made sense. Barely. Tony turned to Bruce and frowned. "You didn't mention that earlier."

"I assumed you had already figured it out." Bruce finished the adjustments of Enid's surroundings and dusted his hands on his pants. "Jarvis told you what I said, right? About what's in his system?"

"Shit tons of Fabula's magic, yeah," Tony said impatiently.

"Well, it was also in mine. Just a miniscule amount though," he added hastily, when everyone jumped at once. "I think I was targeted in the cabin."

"Why only you?"

Bruce fixed Clint with a deadpan stare. "You are aware that I can turn into fifteen feet of pure rage at _any waking moment_, right?"

"Point taken."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I think that's why I couldn't, ah, hulk out when I needed to. Imagine it like a bomb; the magic was put in my system, and Enid was the detonator. When I got to close to him…" he made an exploding gesture with his hands.

"But how does that mean En-er, the _other _Enid is a fake?" Steve looked confused in a strangely endearing way. Tony glared at him a little harder, just because.

"I'm not an expert on magic, but I'm pretty sure that someone who's powerful can use it to steal the life force of another being to make a clone of sorts out of them." Bruce twiddled his thumbs, smiling sheepishly at the resounding incredulous reactions. "I, uh, dealt with some pretty weird things overseas."

"Yeah, okay, first of all," Clint pointed at Bruce, "you need to get drunk. Because drunken storytelling is the _best _storytelling." Bruce shrugged passively; there was no arguing with that. "And secondly, just how strong of a magician slash demon is Fabula?"

"Very, very strong," Bruce answered with a grave nod. "Much stronger than we originally thought."

"But only because she had Fake Enid throw us off," Tony piped up. "Remember when he said she wasn't very bright? Total bullshit. This chick's a…_genius_." He said the last world grudgingly. "We can't just run blindly into battle with her. We have to have a strategy of some kind—we have to think of all the possibilities before she can."

Steve gave a slow nod. He looked like he was finally understanding everything. "Wait…do you remember how E- _Fake _Enid told us to end the spell? How do we know that wasn't a lie too?"

Tony hadn't considered that; he look at Bruce for an answer. The doctor frowned deeply. "We don't. Not for sure. But based on everything else being a lie, we can assume that's a lie too."

"Tch," Clint groaned. "I'm hating Fabula more and more every second."

"You and me both." Tony turned away from Steve's imploring look; for the love of _god, _did the man not know when someone was mad at him?

Steve sighed and took a few small steps away from Tony. "We are going to alert SHIELD, get Natasha's help, and there aren't going to be any complaints."

"Yeah, _no_." Tony fixed him with a harsh look. "I'd rather not have SHIELD here tracking my every move. I'm _compromised_, remember?"

Surprisingly, Steve clamped his mouth shut and let Clint talk for both of them.

"For _Christ's sake_, Tony!" the archer looked just short of livid. "Do you think that we wouldn't have done something by now if we actually thought you were compromised?" He lifted a hand to swiftly shut Tony up. "I'm a SHIELD agent, okay? I have to say things I don't mean to people I don't want to hurt, and normally I have to stomach that. But not with you. I _won't_ stand here and take any more abuse from you because you have trust issues! Everything I said before was Fury's words, not mine. And even still, we're sorry, alright? Just get that through your thick skull."

Tony was a loss for words. Of course, he wouldn't let that show. "But Steve said—"

"Steve," Steve interrupted, "was being careful. And stupid. And he's _sorry_."

Tony was a little ashamed to admit that his wall of anger turned fuzzy at that point. He kept a hard grip on his anger, though, because _they _weren't on truth spells. For all he knew they could be lying to mollify him. "Don't apologize to me," he found himself saying. "I don't _deserve it_."

…Well he definitely didn't mean to say _that_.

Tony blinked in surprise; he still wasn't well adjusted to the spell. So far, he'd been pretty good about twisting his words to fit the honesty quota, but that had slipped out without any thought at all.

The responses went as followed:

"How big of a _fucking_ _idiot _can you possibly be?"

"_What._"

"...and I thought _I_ had issues."

From Clint, Steve, and Bruce, respectively.

Tony rolled his eyes; it was really hard to stay mad at a big group of idiots like these guys. "You're one to talk," he said to Clint, with as much ice as he could muster. "Bruce, shut up." The doctor smiled boyishly. "And Cap—"

_Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I believe Enid is waking._

Instantly, all interest on the topic at hand was lost. All four turned to look as Enid raised his head and clawed at the oxygen mask. Bruce hurried to peel it away from his face.

"_Fabula,"_ Enid rasped, his voice urgent. His blue eyes had a delirious look about them. "_Fabula…my body…"_

Steve trained his eyes on Tony once more. "I think he's in more need of immediate attention. But once that's done, we _will _sort out your issues."

Tony attempted to snap, "_I don't have issues!" _but found that his tongue refused to say it. And, even if the spell allowed it, Tony didn't think he'd make a convincing argument anyways.


	8. Chapter 8

**notes**: You thought this story would never update again, didn't you? Oh ye of little faith! I absolutely refuse to give up on this story. I will update until it's over, that's a guarantee. I'd offer an (admittedly lame and long-winded) excuse as to why I haven't updated recently, but I'll just sum it up by saying school is very time consuming, even when it shouldn't be.

**and**: Thank you for your reviews and patience!

* * *

It took Bruce all of ten minutes to have Enid stable again. He had stopped trying to stitch up the wound on Enid's chest, for obvious reasons, and once the man was hooked up to a fresh IV bag he stepped back.

Steve stood by the foot of the bed anxiously. He kept glancing at Tony, which only made Tony feel a lot more nervous than he initially was. "Stop looking at me like that," he snapped at Steve.

Steve shrugged but didn't look very apologetic. "Sorry," he said heavily, "I'm just trying to figure things out."

"Figure things out in Clint's direction," Tony grumbled without much conviction. Unsurprisingly, Steve gave him a sour look. "Okay, I didn't mean that. Actually, I sort of did, but you know what I mean." He furrowed his brow and let his gaze fall on Enid, "I'm just a little stressed about things, is all."

"No kidding," Clint snorted. Bruce shot him a withering look that he casually ignored. "You're acting even more fucked up than usual."

Tony was mildly afraid of how he would answer that. He opted to stay silent, though he did give Clint a reproachful side-eye.

"What are we going to do until he wakes up?" Steve asked, diffusing the tension.

As hard as he tried, Tony could only keep the anger in a voice thinly veiled, "I can have Jarvis trace the girl from the news this morning. It was Fabula," he said with finality, "in disguise. In fact, disguising herself wouldn't even be hard for her. She's playing some kind of mind game with me, most likely." His voice took a cold edge to it, "_Taunting _me."

Steve and Bruce nodded; regardless of whether or not they agreed with him, they were at least going to try and accept his ideas. "Someone needs to sew up Enid, though. Since I, uh, can't do it," Bruce said sheepishly.

"I can!" Clint received three pairs of doubtful stares. "What? Nat and I have to sew each other up on the daily basis. I've gotten pretty good, if I do say so myself." Bruce still looked a little dubious, but he made to take out the supplies for Clint to use.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty expression on his face. "Are you okay with calling Natasha in? We don't have to tell SHIELD anything, if you don't want to," he added hastily.

Tony felt a little resentment boiling up. He wasn't a glass doll; he didn't have to be treated so delicately. So, yeah, he let a few things slip—but no matter how hard they tried, they weren't going to change his mind about feeling worthless. It was a fact he'd come to terms with long before the Iron Man identity had even been created. Doing the superhero thing gave him purpose, yeah, but not _worth. _The Avengers could live on without Tony Stark, and they'd probably enjoy life a lot more too.

It took a while for Tony to realize he'd spoken the last bit of his musings aloud. Something told him it was the spell—maybe it was getting stronger. Nonetheless, Steve was giving him the Bambi look again, and Bruce and Clint were frozen and staring at him with wide eyes.

Tony stared at each of them in turn. Now he felt like throwing up; all it took was a little spell and he was puking up word-vomit left and right.

"Uh, yeah, you can call SHIELD if it's necessary," he told Steve, fighting the urge to slink away from them all. "And Natasha too, we'll definitely need her."

Slowly, Clint and Bruce started moving again, but they didn't take their eyes off him. "I worry about you," Bruce said earnestly, and Clint solemnly agreed.

"You're not worthless!" Steve blurted out. He seemed a little embarrassed by his outburst, but didn't let it faze him. "And we _do_ need you!"

Tony turned his head away. He felt like _actual _vomit was going to make an appearance any minute. "I…I'll be in my lab. Yeah." He stumbled on his way to the elevator and practically dashed inside it when the doors pulled open.

The option of smashing his head against the wall until he passed out seemed inviting, but Tony knew it wouldn't fix anything. Being alone was good for him, at the moment. If he heard the others try to assure him again he would probably punch them in the face.

"Jarvis, tell Pepper not to come by at lunch. She's not going to get anything out of me today."

_Of course, sir. _Jarvis didn't say anything else, and Tony reveled in the silence for a bit.

Out of all his screw-ups with the spell, _this _had to be the worst. Or at least fighting for top spot with 'telling-a-room-full-of-people-about-Afghanistan.' It wasn't some kind of childish nightmare; he had actually just spoken his thoughts out loud, _involuntarily. _The spell was definitely getting stronger—that much was obvious. Being a master of not saying what he actually thought, Tony knew when he wanted to say things and when he didn't.

And, unless it was in jest, Tony had a very small, very real phobia of telling people _exactly _what was on his mind.

Without thinking, his fist jerked out and slammed into the elevator wall. And it both hurt like a bitch and made him feel like an even bigger idiot, all at once.

The pain his hand did pull him back into reality though. Natasha was being called in—and she was an even bigger rat for SHIELD than Clint. If he wanted to prove to Fury that he wasn't a liability, he was going to need to put a lid on the word-vomiting.

"Jarvis, have you started on that trace yet?"

_Yes. It appears that the girl on the news has not been seen again, however, my readings detect a large concentrated mass of the substance found in both Doctor Banner's and Enid's systems._

"I can work with that," Tony mumbled under his breath. He massaged his knuckles with the opposite hand, taking brisk steps once the doors opened. "Where's it at?"

_Off of Jefferson Street._

"That's…disturbingly close." Tony frowned. He relaxed into a computer chair, pulling up the address of a security camera closest to the address Jarvis had given. "Yeah, way too close. You can see my house from there," he said as a joke, chuckling lightly.

A moment passed, and then…

"What—shit_, you can see my house from there_!" Tony nearly fell out of his chair. He couldn't, for the time being, be a recluse. There were very important people a few floors above him that needed the message—and needed it _now. _"Jarvis, alert everyone, Natasha too. I've got about a dozen numbers she uses as aliases; one of them should work. Just try them all." He stumbled off the chair, in a sort of crazed dash to his suit. "It might be a good idea to let the others know they should just meet me there. Yeah, less confrontation that way."

_Sir, that is highly unadvised._

"I'd rather not be looked at like a walking sob story," Tony snorted as metal arms whirred around him. The armor was piecing together from the bottom up.

_I am almost certain that that assumption is incorrect. _

Tony kept a straight face. "I don't pay you to be almost certain. Well, I don't pay you period, but it's the princib—_ow, pinching_." A metal arm buzzed in apology and removed a plate that had the skin on his shoulder pinched between it and an upper arm plate. "Anyway, it's a little too late, don't you think?"

_At risk of sounding cliché, it is never too late. Perhaps you could make a call to them yourself?_

"Yeah, no." The face plate was put into place, and the screen instantly lit up before Tony's eyes. "I mean, I think that's a good idea—if I weren't me."

_Sir?_

Tony rolled his eyes, even if it didn't exactly clarify anything. "We can talk about this later, or something. Jesus, it's like everyone in this house decided to play therapist." The suit came to life and Tony was airborne moments later.

It hadn't actually been that long since Tony had suited up, but it felt like years. He had become somewhat attached to the feeling flying gave him; it was two-parts exhilarating and one-part fucking _amazing_, because he was Tony Stark and Iron Man and no one else was.

The rainbows and sunshine died down fairly quickly. Technically, it was shot down—along with Tony, who hadn't seen a blast of blue _something _that turned his suit into a deadweight and was spiraling because of it.

"Aksdjfjs," Tony huffed in reaction to the sudden free fall and the fact that his face was semi-smushed into the face plate.

_Sir, you are impossible to understand._

"Jarvis—" Tony groused, "just kickstart the repulsors, damnit."

Tony was forced to wait another point-two seconds before the suit came online again. Once it did, he shot up into the air again, circling around with palms at the ready, because whatever just did that to him was going to _die. _

It took all of three seconds to locate the attacker. He wasn't even all that surprised to see the cold, hard yellow eyes of Fabula—who was definitely flying, _how the hell—_

"Man of Iron," she sang, and even though she had to be at least fifty feet away from him, Tony could hear the utter delight in her voice, "just the man I wanted to kill!"

Without any warning, an enormous weight dropped on him from above—_is that the Decoy Enid, what the bleeding hell—_and Tony felt himself drop too far and too fast for his liking. He rolled in a manner akin to an alligator until the unwanted passenger was dropped.

And he watched, with his own two eyes, as Decoy Enid poofed into nothing, only to appear seconds later by Fabula's side.

"This is tedious," she called to him, twirling her wand in her fingers idly. Decoy Enid grinned sloppily at him; he hardly resembled Enid at all now. The eyes were dark and lifeless, and he drooled like some kind of well trained dog. Green, bumpy skin bunched around his shoulders and elbows, barely covered by the shredded rag that was flung haplessly over his shoulders. Tony wasn't entirely sure, but he guessed that Fabula was creating wind to blow her dress around to make her look less like a child and more like a supervillain. "Shall we take our battle to the ground?"

"The sky is so much more private. We can get busy a lot faster up here," Tony responded lightly. The sexual implications of his statement were more or less intentional—if he was going to break Fabula, he was going to have fun with it.

"I prefer to take my men on something solid beneath my feet." Fabula blew a kiss at him.

"Jarvis, _please _tell me the others are on their way."

_They are, sir. If you could keep Fabula airborne and occupied for a few minutes more…_

Tony groaned but nodded. He decided that, above all, he had to make sure Fabula knew _he _was in charge of the situation. "I didn't know magicians could fly," he said to her, though most of his sarcasm was lost in the suits metallic voice.

"That is just one of the many things that sets me apart from the rest." Fabula was floating toward him now; Tony flew in the opposite direction, trying to even out the distance between them. "Now, save us a lot of time and energy. I can kill you, quick and simple."

"My response to that," Tony said, feeling a bit of anger bubble in his chest, "goes as follows."

The unibeam took Fabula by surprise. Tony managed to singe off a large amount of hair on the left side of her head, as well as part of Decoy Enid's clothing. He had half a mind to flip up the face plate just to smirk at her, but he opted for flipping her the bird and rocketing higher into the air.

Even though he would be the one to take Fabula down, Tony was going to need help with her lackey. He'd keep her attention until the others arrived. But when the Avengers assembled, he would stop running.

And Fabula would _sure as hell_ pick up where he left off.


End file.
